


Drowning (Just Breathe)

by ApexOnHigh



Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Episode Related, Episode s06e10: Haunted, Established Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-14
Updated: 2018-02-14
Packaged: 2019-03-05 06:36:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13382226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ApexOnHigh/pseuds/ApexOnHigh
Summary: John struggles with memories of the past while awaiting news of Fin's fate.





	Drowning (Just Breathe)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sidewinder](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sidewinder/gifts).



The doctors, nurses, and paramedics kept shouting, rushing all around him. Machines beeped and phones rang without end, creating a wall of urgent white noise. Men and women in uniform milled about because an officer had been shot—though all they could do was guard the door to keep the morbidly curious and greedy press at bay.

There was a dreaded, helpless familiarity to it all. The sounds, the smells, the barely organized chaos of the waiting area of the trauma ward.

And lost in the midst of it all, John Munch began to slip away.

He wasn't at Mercy Hospital any longer, hanging on in desperation for any news about Fin. He was at Johns Hopkins, his ears still ringing from the gunfire. He was watching as three of his best friends, his comrades in Homicide, were being sped off into surgery. Doctors were barking out impatient demands and it was all a blur of noise, panic, and blood.

_So much blood. Blood everywhere, like the blood soaking Fin's gurney._

_Blood on his shoes. And it's a big joke, isn't it? A fucking joke. They're clinging on to life and he's escaped with a pair of ruined shoes. Gee is standing there in front of him, silent, frozen in his own world of numb shock and horror. And all he can do is try somehow to hold it together. Try to wipe away the blood with a tissue already soaked through with his tears._

"John. _John_."

The assertive voice startled him, pulled him back to his present reality.

Baltimore…that had been years ago. This was New York. This was _Fin_ , fighting for his life, not Kay and Stanley and Beau. His current commanding officer—Don Cragen, not Gee—was the one now staring at him with concern.

John drew in his breath and attempted to exhale the nightmare of the past from his mind. "I'm sorry, Captain. I was…"

What could he say? _Don't mind me, just reliving a nightmare I can never seem to escape. The worst day of my life. At least, the worst until now, depending on what happens next. What happens to Fin…_

But he didn't have to explain himself, and for that he was grateful. Don only said, "It's all right. Is there any news?"

"No. Nothing yet. Did you find anything at the bodega?" he asked, hopeful. He kept hearing them outside—the reporters, throwing around the words "unarmed" and "teenager", "police violence" and "justice" as they were clearly salivating for that to be the story they could tell on the evening news.

"Nothing definitive yet, although CSU found a surveillance tape. They rushed it to TARU to put together exactly what happened." Don paused and added in a quiet voice, making sure no one else could hear, "So far they haven't recovered a weapon."

John shook his head. "I know Fin, Captain. He would never take out an unarmed kid. Not even in a shoot-out. He never looses his cool or focus."

"You know that and I know that. Now we just have to pray we can find the evidence to show as much to the rest of the world."

John nodded, distracted as alarms buzzed and there was a wave of heightened urgency in the noise around them. He glanced back toward the doors where he'd barely caught a glimpse of Fin as they'd wheeled him off to surgery. The fear that it would end up being the last time he'd see Fin alive kept threatening to overwhelm him. But before his thoughts could travel those dark paths again, Don asked him, "Are _you_ holding up all right?"

"I have to, for my partner."

A firm hand fell upon on his shoulder. Eyes that seemed to understand far too much looked into his own as Don insisted, "Fin's going to be okay."

"We don't know that." He'd seen the blood.

(— _So much blood, blood everywhere. Blood on his shoes—)_

"I know that he's is a tough son of a bitch, and he's getting the best possible care here. We have to put our trust in that."

John swallowed down the emotion welling up in his throat and nodded. He knew he needed to pull himself together—if not for his own sake, for Fin's, and their unit.

 _This is the risk that's always there when you're a cop,_ he reminded himself. _I know it, Fin knows it, too. It can all end in an instant, the blink of an eye._

This was the risk they'd taken when they'd allowed themselves to become lovers, not simply friends and partners on the job. That some day, with no warning, one or the other might not make it home to the sanctuary and comfort of their bed. Allowing this love into their lives meant opening themselves up to the possibility of that much greater pain.

But John couldn't speak of such things now, not here. Not to their captain. Not when they'd done everything they could to keep their relationship private so as not to jeopardize their positions at work.

"Captain…Captain Cragen!" John heard the insistent call, and saw the Chief of Detectives barreling toward them. Don obviously recognized the voice and gave John a weary (yet warning) glance before turning around to deal with him.

"Showtime," John muttered under his breath. And he straightened up, but on his best stoic expression, and prepared for whatever was to come next.

*

That "next" was soon to be discovery of indisputable evidence that Fin had not fired without cause. The tape proved the teenager had drawn his weapon first and his weapon was recovered from the scene. Better still, news soon followed that Fin had come through surgery fine, and would be on his way to a swift and complete recovery.

And finally, after the endless wait, John headed down the corridor toward Fin's room to see that for himself. Relief and anxiety mixed with guilt that it had taken so long for him to get his turn visiting his partner—or even to feel ready to do so.

For things were still complicated, and still frantic at the hospital. They had to make every effort to diffuse the situation, make sure the press got their facts straight. The Chief of D's needed to put on a display of seeing Fin first—to commend his bravery as well as, no doubt, coaching him on what could or couldn't be said about the matter in public. Captain Cragen followed next, and was in with Fin when Olivia finally arrived with Fin's son Ken.

Olivia, who needed her own time with Fin, to assuage her misplaced guilt over being outside when the shooting took place.

And so on and so on. John let them all get their chances first. It didn't just seem like half the department there to see Fin but the entirety of the NYPD.

John was merely another one of Fin's co-workers. A friend. Yes, partners had close bonds, but they weren't supposed to be as close as John and Fin were.

And they had to keep up appearances that friends were all they were to each other, no matter what.

But it was finally his turn. John drew in a deep breath as he stood outside the doorway before daring to peek inside. It was quiet, the room dark save a very muted light in the private room. John didn't knock or say anything and he was glad he hadn't, for he saw Fin lying there with his eyes closed, resting.

Machines beeped, soft and steady. For a moment, John felt those memories of the past threatening to come back to panic him again.

_Sitting by Stanley's bedside for hours, then days, waiting for him to wake up…_

No. That past was long behind him, and Fin was here, now. He took a seat in the chair at Fin's bedside, hoping not to disturb him.

It was enough to sit there and watch him breathe.

On his own. Alive.

John lost track of how long he sat there. Didn't matter. No other work was being done today, everything else could wait. John knew that Don would understand that. Eventually, one of the monitoring machines made a loud buzzing noise that startled both John and Fin, who shifted in bed, then opened his eyes.

John had never been so happy to feel that gaze fall upon him. He gave a weak smile and said, "Hey, partner."

"Hey. Was wonderin' where you were at." Fin's voice sounded a little rough, softer than normal. But it was incredible to simply hear it again.

"I thought I'd wait until all the brass and looky-loos finished pestering you. And you had some time with your son." Someone John had been so curious about for so long, and yet he had disappeared as fast as he'd arrived at the hospital.

"Yeah. For all of about ten seconds before he bolted, since it turned out I wasn't dyin'."

"I'm sorry."

"Not your problem."

"No, I've only got you to give me a heart attack." John wanted to reach for and take Fin's hand…hell, he wanted to kiss him and hug him—gently—and jump in the hospital bed with him, everything and everyone else be damned. But he had the sense that Fin wasn't in a state for any of that. So instead he held his gaze and confessed, "Gave me a real scare today, you."

Fin tried to shrug it off—then winced at the mistaken effort. "I'm gonna be fine. I'd go home tonight but the docs insist on keeping me overnight."

"As well they should. You look like you need the rest and some quiet time."

"I guess. That is, if everyone would stop bugging me so I could get more than a few minutes' sleep."

John sighed and sat back, ready to make an exit if that was what Fin wanted. "I can leave now, then. Sit outside your door to guard your slumbers."

"How about you stay here with me, but stay quiet, okay? Don't feel much up to talkin'."

"As difficult as it might be to believe, I can do that, too."

Fin was the one to reach out, then, taking John's hand. John grasped it like a lifeline, pulling him out of drowning waters.

The silence that fell between them was far from uncomfortable. It was peace and understanding, an unspoken bond. It was gratitude that, at least for today, their worst fears were vanquished. It was a love that did not need to be professed with elaborate words or gestures.

It was a love that kept John grounded, and was worth opening up old wounds if Fin could finally help lessen these lingering scars.


End file.
